Los Angeles, California: CIA Building:

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Agent Asahi Tanaka stepped into his office in the Central Intelligence Agency’s Los Angeles office. He had arrived earlier than usual this morning because he had a flight out of LAX to Seattle at ten o’clock. He didn’t bother with the overhead light. Instead, he turned on the small desk lamp positioned on the corner of his desk and he pressed the power button on his computer.

He walked over to the large set of windows and looked down at the street while he waited for his computer to boot up. The city never truly slept, but the early morning, and the fact that it was a weekend, meant the downtown area was relatively empty. His mind was not on the day-to-day life found in Los Angeles, though. He was thinking of a small town along the coast of Oregon.

Turning away from the view, he returned to his desk, pulled the chair out, and sat down. He quickly typed in his password. Opening the file drawer next to him, he pulled out the file titled ‘Missing Persons – Yachats, Oregon’ and placed it on his desk. The contents of the file – like everything else about him – were in meticulous order.

He opened it to the first page, the transcript of his last conversation with Detective Mike Hallbrook of the Lincoln County Police Department. He carefully reread the transcript, already knowing what it said by heart.

The call from Mike had come at 4:48 on a Wednesday morning. He remembered every detail of that morning, but had documented it as well. He had been residing in the Fireside Motel in Yachats while he investigated the most recent disappearance – that of the man who had called him.

He’d seen Mike’s name appear on the caller ID and known immediately he was about to get the first big break in a series of disappearances that had started nearly four decades before he’d begun working on it. He had answered the phone on the first ring.

Asahi turned the page and looked at the documents Mike had left behind. On one notepad Mike had written two words: Ask Ruth. Mike had retraced the words over and over until they were bold faced. Looking up, Asahi clicked on the encrypted folder on his desktop.

Inside was a video file of his interview with Ruth Hallbrook, Mike’s older sister, and an audio file of the phone message Mike had left her. A smile tugged at his lips when he saw the video’s placeholder showing Ruth Hallbrook’s skeptical expression and determined eyes. She was going to do everything she could to find her brother, and Asahi hoped she would be successful. He directed the pointer to the audio file and clicked on it. Sitting back in his chair, he stared out of the window as he listened to the incredible story that her brother had left on her voice mail.

Yachats, Oregon:

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Ross Galloway stood on the dock staring moodily at the old fishing trawler that he had inherited from his dad. It had long since lost its varnished finish. Now, scars from years of use covered the tired surface. He pulled in a drag of his cigarette before exhaling the smoke into the early morning fog.

God, he hated this place. It was cold and depressing. Why anyone wanted to live along the Oregon coast where it could go from being clear and sunny in minutes to gray and damp with fog so thick you could barely see your hand in front of your face was beyond him. He would have moved away years ago if he could have afforded it. The only reason he stayed was because he was waiting for his mom to die so he could sell the house. It was the only thing worth something; the boat sure as hell wasn’t.

Turning, he watched as Nathan Grumby stepped onto the dock and walked toward him. Nathan gave him a toothy grin and held up the device in his hand. Ross grunted and tossed his cigarette butt into the water.

“You’re late,” he said as Nathan climbed on board the trawler.

“Hey, at least I showed up! My brother was showing me some of the stuff he’s found with it. It’s pretty cool,” Nathan replied with a shrug. “He also told me he’d kill my ass if I didn’t bring this back in the same condition he loaned it to me.”

Ross glanced at the expensive underwater metal detector. He gave Nathan a brief nod. Hannibal Grumby would probably do it, too. Nathan’s brother was known for his hot temper. He had seen Nathan use his fists more than once down at the local tavern to beat the shit out of some overconfident preppy who thought putting on a leather jacket and riding a Harley made him a badass. Personally, Ross liked to think he was smart enough to avoid assholes like Nathan – even when he was drunk.

“Put it below, then release the ropes. I want to get the engines warmed up. We should have been out on the water a half hour ago,” he stated.

Ross climbed on board the trawler, and up the short steps to the wheelhouse, then slid the door open, and walked over to the console. He turned the key to start the engines. The low rumble of the engines shook the old trawler, making every loose nut and bolt rattle. He impatiently waited for Nathan to cast off the dock lines. As soon as the boat was free, he carefully pulled away.

Nathan climbed back down from the bow of the boat and stepped into the covered bridge, rubbing his hands together to warm them before turning back to navigate out of the marina’s narrow channel. Once they were clear of the ‘No Wake’ signs, he pressed forward on the throttle.

“So, what are you looking for that you needed Hannibal’s metal detector?” Nathan asked.

Ross debated whether he should say anything, then shrugged. It wasn’t like it really mattered. Whatever he found while diving would be his and only his.

“I saw something the other day and want to check it out,” he said.

Nathan shook his head. “Unless you marked it, I don’t see how you’ll be able to find it again,” he replied with a shrug. “What was it?”

“I don’t know, and I did mark it,” Ross retorted. “It was dark, though, so I didn’t get a good look at it.”

“Well, it’s your boat, dude,” Nathan remarked, glancing around. “Did you bring some food and something hot to drink? I didn’t get a chance to grab anything and I’m freezing my ass off.”

Ross jerked his head toward the cooler set to the side. “There’s coffee and doughnuts in the cooler. Just save me some or you’ll be swimming back,” he warned.

Nathan chuckled as he turned. “I’ll save you one or two,” he promised.

Ross ignored his friend. Instead, he focused on the GPS position he had programmed in the other morning. Two nights ago, he had been fishing when a bright streak and loud splash had startled him. Something had fallen from the god-damn sky! Cutting his tangled net free, he’d cursed when it slipped over the side before he could grab it. The large fishing net would be a pain in the ass to replace, but it was old and had more than one hole in it. He’d hated leaving it behind, but had been afraid of losing the location of whatever in the hell it was that had fallen from the sky. He would have to come back out and see if he could locate the net when there was more light.

Following the rippling waves to the center of the area, he’d seen something interesting before he’d even focused his large spotlight down. A bright glow under the water had lit up an area half the size of a football field under his trawler before it slowly faded until only the pitch blackness of the ocean surrounded him. The spotlight hadn’t helped him see more. He’d have to go down there. Afraid he would lose the location, he had programmed the spot into his GPS.

It had taken him two days to get the dive equipment he needed ready. He had to get his tanks checked and filled. They had been ready last night. While he was at the dive shop, he saw the metal detectors on display. He couldn’t afford any of the nice ones, but remembered Nathan’s brother had one for his work.

He had recently read an article online that mentioned a meteorite was worth its weight in gold. From the size of the splash, he hoped that it was one the size of his trawler. If it was, he would be retiring at an early age to Hawaii.

It took them nearly an hour to get to the spot where he had marked the impact. They had passed several other boats heading out, but he ignored them. He slowed, turning the boat in slow, circular patterns until he was about ten feet from the spot. Shutting off the engine, he dropped the bow anchor first. Once he knew which direction the current and the wind were blowing the boat, he nodded to Nathan to drop the stern anchor.

“Now, what?” Nathan asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Now I suit up,” Ross said.

A shiver ran down Nathan as he looked at the chilly dark water. “Better you than me,” he muttered. “I’m glad I never learned to dive.”

Without replying, he pushed past Nathan and opened a storage bin to his right. Inside was his dry suit, regulator, buoyancy compensator, weight belt, and the other equipment he would need.

Forty minutes later, Ross stepped off the back of the trawler and sank down beneath the waves. He had instructed Nathan to keep an eye on the bright orange buoy he had attached to his weight belt and make sure the dive flag was raised. If he drifted too far, Nathan would pick him up. Checking his dive watch, he noted the time and direction of the boat. He pulled the pressure gauge around and glanced at it. He had a full tank of air and would need to monitor it, his depth, and his bottom time. Gripping the metal detector in one hand, he released more air in his BC and sank gracefully to the bottom.